The End of the World, Maybe
by Klaine O'Clock
Summary: When the doorbell didn't work, Mrs. Hudson has to bring up Sherlock's clients. How about instead of Mycroft's agent interrupting Irene and Sherlock's moment, it was Molly, who got a surprise when she came looking for rotten thumbs. Onesided MollySherlock.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock**

The End of The World, Maybe

Chapter 1: Irene Adler

You may think that working at a mortuary would mean that you're okay with bodies and gore and death. That _wasn't_ the case for Molly Hooper, she would sometimes, quite regularly actually, wake up in the middle of the night due to nightmares filled with faces of her deceased patients.

Lately, the dreams had been about a woman, _that _woman. The one that Sherlock was able to identify. It was definitely surprising when he had done so by looking at her, well, body. And even more surprising when Mrs. Hudson lead Molly into 221B and found the suppose-to-be dead woman towering over Sherlock, scantly dressed in _Sherlock's_ bathrobe.

~ ~.:KO'C:.~ ~

"_Sherlock?"_

"_Too late." _

"_It's not the end of the world, it's Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock explained._

_Irene stood up and coldly gazed at toward the door as the old woman walked through._

"Sherlock, is your doorbell still not working?" Questioned Mrs Hudson as she stepped into the darkened flat.

"He shot it." Mrs. Hudson explained simply as, curious enough, Molly Hooper walked in.

Molly quickly took in the living room. She hadn't been here since Christmas and it had clearly changed for the worse. Papers were spewed across the desk, coffee table _and _floor. Old tea mugs were stacked next to the two comforter chairs. The fire place was lit, warming up the room a considerable bit. She looked upon Sherlock (dressed rather dashingly) and a woman wearing... Sherlock's bathrobe?

Wait... what?

Molly knew that face, of course she did. She _should _be dead, lying in the mortuary. But here she was, standing there... not dead, but Molly had seen the body. There hadn't been any pulse. She couldn't be alive right now... was this a dream?

To sum up her thoughts, Molly let out an inelegant "eep".

"Articulate, this one, Mr. Holmes." Irene said demeaningly.

Mrs. Hudson was about to scold Sherlock's new friend as he cut across the old woman's words with a small smile, "You're no longer needed, Mrs. Hudson. Have a nice evening."

"I should hope so." She replied curtly and left, closing the door behind her.

"Ms. Hooper?" Asked Sherlock as he placed his violin in its case and stood; brushing off his suit coat, "Might I ask what you are doing here at this hour?"

For the first time in her life, Molly didn't have her attention focused on Sherlock.

"You're dead... or you were... uh, right?"

"Can you rephrase that question, Dear?" Irene said smoothly as she glanced back at Sherlock, "Going to introduce me, Sherlock?"

Great, Molly thought to herself, now the dead woman and her crush were on first name basis.

"Molly, Irene Adler. Irene, Molly Hooper."

"You're dead! Sherlock believed so! There wasn't a bloody pulse!" Molly exclaimed, trying to prove that she wasn't going insane and imagining things.

"Well, it's quite ingenious, Ms. Hooper. Irene here had a very intricate-"

"- I take pride in my skilled doctors, Sweety," Irene answered, "Oh come now, Sherlock, don't look like that. I need to retain some mystery. It gives me _effect._"

She was wearing Sherlock's robe, Molly figured she had more than enough _effect_.

That and the fact the the two seemed rather engaged when she had entered with Mrs. Hudson, it was more than enough to put her on edge.

"Since it seems that it has slipped your mind, Molly, I shall reiterate my unanswered question: Why are you here?"

Molly flinched at his tone. Yes, they were clearly interrupted from something by her unexpected appearance, she deduced.

"John had called, he'd asked me to remove some thumbs that you had acquired that he said were well past the 'best if used by' date."

Sherlock stood straighter as his brow furrowed in annoyance, he had informed John not to interfere with his projects, especially after last time, "Unneeded. It's an experiment."

Irene watched with amusement as the shy girl shuffled her feet.

"A-are you sure?"

"Very." Sherlock confirmed.

Giving a barely audible sigh, Molly turned to leave, disappointed. She really didn't want to leave Sherlock here. Alone. With _her._

As her hand twisted the knob and she took her first step out, Irene called for her to stop.

Looking over her shoulder, Molly watched as the mysterious woman gave an almost sexual look at Sherlock, "Let the poor girl play with your body parts, Sherlock."

Molly blushed and Sherlock cleared his throat, about to speak, but Irene continued, "I went to get some milk this morning for breakfast and was hit with the most vile of smells. Perhaps it's an _experiment gone wrong_."

Molly blushed furiously again. This lady seemed to have the talent for twisting anything into a sexual gesture.

Sherlock looked alarmed, "Would never happen. But if you must – follow me."

Sherlock rubbed past the woman, giving her a knowing look and headed into the kitchen with Molly directly behind him. Irene leaned against the sliding doors connecting the kitchen to the den.

Sherlock opened the fridge door as Molly peeped over his shoulder. And a wave of stench blew into Sherlock's face as he stumbled backward... right into Molly, who wrapped him in her arms in order it keep them from falling his lab equipment sprawled across the kitchen table.

A few seconds of silence passed as no one moved until, "_Stick the landing_ better next time, Honey." Came Irene's chuckling voice and Molly was sure that it was in response to her once again blushing cheeks.

Molly stood up a bit too quickly and caused Sherlock to stumble and grab the edge of the table in an effort to steady himself.

"Oh! Sorry, Sher-"

"No matter." Huffed Sherlock as he fattened his shirt.

Turning to the fridge, Sherlock waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dissipate the smell along with the tension in the room before reaching into a side drawer.

His hand retraced quickly as he slammed the door shut.

Molly could see Irene stiffen as the smell finally reached her.

"Perhaps," Said Sherlock slowly, "They are bad."

"Told you." Irene retorted.

"Incorrect."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You only said that Molly should have a look at them. Implying that you, yourself didn't know if the thumbs were in a good condition or not. The manner of your shoulders said that you had a nagging feeling that you didn't truly know. The way you stood back while I approached the fridge shows that you thought that perhaps the the experiment was doing fine and I was correct. And the way that your left foot curled around the right ankle shows that overall you were confident in your assessment of the thumbs this morning - rotten. Finally, the way in which your eyes looked over to the lowest drawer as I opened the fridge and fell back shows that you also think that the lamb's leg I have is bad too. Quite incorrect, I am testing a bacteria and am keeping a close eye on it, thank you very much." Sherlock finished and fixed Irene with a questioning look, "Anything wrong?"

"Not that I'm aware of. You certainly perfected _the new sexy_."

"I should hope so. It is my living, after all."

Watching the exchange, Molly closed her gaping mouth and took a chance at asking a stupid question.

"Which is _what_, exactly?"

"Thinking." Sherlock said shortly as he thrust the bag of bloody thumbs to her before looking back at Irene, "Shame about the thumbs. It is your fault, Ms. Adler, for preoccupying my time and causing this experimental disaster."

"Glad I could help, Mr. Holmes." Irene smirked.

That certainly made Molly mind swirl. Occupy him _how_, exactly?"

Molly blushed as Sherlock looked downward at her, "There you are, all set. If there's nothing else..."

"Ah, um, no. I don't think so."

"Good. I was deep in thought before you interrupted and I wish to resume that." Sherlock strode over to his chair beside the fireplace and tuckered in.

Molly moved for the door, "I guess I'll be seeing you later, then."

"I expect so." Replied Sherlock, his eyes reflecting the flames as he paid her no mind.

Taking one last look at the woman, Molly was met with a predatory smile.

Lowering her eyes, Molly muttered out one last 'goodbye', and closed the door behind her.

Slowly moving down the stairs, trying to process what had just happened, Molly barely heard the front door open then close.

"Molly?"

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "What? Oh, hi John... got your thumbs. Well, not _yours_, but... yeah."

Molly offered the bag to him and with a wrinkled nose, he took it.

"Great, thanks!" John said as Molly moved past him in a daze.

"Molly," John stopped her, "Are you okay? You seem a little out of it."

"Who is she? That woman?"

"Irene?" John said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, her."

"You have questions?"

"Yes."

"Many?"

"Definitely."

"Mrs. Hudson?" John yelled toward Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, "Put on some tea, would you?"

An annoyed reply resounded back, "Not your housekeeper!"

"Com'on." Said John as he pulled Molly by her hand and lead her down the rest of the stairs into Mrs. Hudson's small kitchen.

**A/N: There will be one more chapter (Titled: Answers), which is written and will be posted tomorrow when I get home.**

**I've never written anything for Sherlock before (I focus on other fandoms – mainly with easier characters to portray than Sherlock) so let me know if Sherlock was _Sherlock_ enough.**

**Review to your heart's content, because frankly, that's what those amazingly, beautiful buttons down there are for.**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own BBC Sherlock.

The End Of The World, Maybe

Chapter 2: Answers

Placing Molly in a seat, John sat across as Mrs. Hudson put a pot on the stove and sat down between the two. The thumbs had been placed beside the table on the floor, forgotten.

"How does Sherlock know Irene?" Molly started off, "Full story, please."

Without a second to lose, John leaps right into the account.

" Irene Adler is a criminal that goes around collecting compromising pictures and scandals on a camera phone of her's. She doesn't use these photos or information for blackmail, just... 'protection'. Sherlock had been asked by a government official to retrieve this phone from Ms. Adler. Unfortunately, She seemed to take a liking to him and drugged Sherlock, and then taking off before we could get the phone. After her faked death – which I'm sure you were wondering about – Irene left the phone to Sherlock for safekeeping. Recently, she contacted Sherlock and me to tell us that she was still alive and wanted the phone back. Sherlock doesn't want to give it up until he managed to unlock it and access the information inside. She showed up this morning in Sherlock's bed, sleeping, and hasn't left since."

Mrs. Hudson sighed, "Troublesome. I don't like Sherlock being alone with her, she's a bit unnerving."

"I doubt his virtue is in danger, Mrs. Hudson." John assured, uneasy himself.

Molly looked between them and began again, "You said something about a camera phone. Sherlock was inspecting one this morning. Was it the same...?"

"Yes. He wanted to know if it was safe to dismantle or not. It turns out that it isn't. On the ride back here in the taxi, he explained how there were small explosives inside that would destroy the hard drive if someone attempted to open the back panel."

There was still one question still one Molly's mind that had been nagging her for a good while now.

"How did Sherlock identify Irene from her body?"

"Yeah, I heard about that. Irene had decided to _introduce _herself to us when we meet her; naked, that is."

Molly blushed.

John continued, "A few CIA agents came in and held us at gunpoint; wanting us to open the safe that the camera phone was in. Irene had supposedly already told Sherlock the key code, but he didn't realize it until they were about to shoot me that the code was her measurements. Thus, he knew her by her size no matter the state of her face."

"Right." Molly whispered, trying to absorb everything that was given to her.

A loud knocking came from the front door as Mrs. Hudson had gotten up to pour the cups of tea. Setting the mugs in front of the two along with a dish of sugar, she excused herself.

"Sorry Dear, I'll just be a moment while I get the door."

Mrs. Hudson quickly shuffled down the short hallway to the front door.

Silence took over the room until Molly asked another question, "Why did Sherlock leave after he got that text on Christmas?"

John looked into his cup, taking a deep breath before replying, "He had received a text from Irene telling him to look at the mantlepiece. There was a small red package there for him, within was the camera phone. Knowing that it was Irene's only source of protection, he made some calls; figuring she'd turn up dead. I imagine the rest of the time he sat there and sulked."

Molly became interested in the wallpaper over the sink, avoiding John's eyes. She had been under the impression that she had been the cause of that reaction. Molly made sure to see him later that night in order to apologize, but he had left too quickly.

Now knowing that it was Irene's fault, she felt a little better, but not much. She'd seen how everything had impacted Sherlock on Christmas by the look in his eyes. Molly had wanted nothing but to hug him and apologize for everything – her fault or not. The only problem was that she'd been stunned from the kiss and let him slip through her fingers._ Again_.

Moments later, Mrs, Hudson thankfully returned, breaking off Molly's thoughts, "He just had to go and shoot the bloody doorbell, didn't he?"

John snorted, "Well I guess the wall gets to _boring_."

John and Mrs. Hudson laughed as Molly looked on curiously; missing the joke.

Just as the laughter died down, Sherlock's voice came from the entryway.

"I'm off John, won't be back until after supper."

John jumped from his chair and went to the kitchen door, "What? Where are you going?"

"A friend has decided to give me a tour of an airplane. My lucky day."

Molly followed John as he left to meet Sherlock, who was putting on his scarf.

A large black man was looking at them over Sherlock's shoulder, Molly didn't think that he looked all that _friendly_.

"And who's your friend today, Sherlock?" John asked as he moved between the man and the door, coming to the same conclusion as Molly.

"Not one of those CIA agents, J-"

"Agent Bryan. Mycroft sent me, Dr. Watson."

"Yes. Well, have fun Sherlock." John said, quickly moving out of the man's way. He really didn't want Mycroft to get angry with him for impeding on his plans.

"_Thanks_, John." Said Sherlock as he shuffled past his flatmate.

The door closed behind the two men and John turned to Molly, "More questions?"

"Who's Mycroft?" Confirmed Molly as the two walked back into the kitchen.

"Sherlock's older brother. He's very, very, _very_ high up in the British government..." Then, at her questioning gaze he quickly added, " I'm not at liberty to say anything else."

"Of course not." Huffed Molly as she slide back into her chair at Mrs. Hudson's table.

The old woman looked at them curiously as they sat down, "What was that all about, then?"

"I figured 'Airplane tour' was code, it sounded suspicious. After the last people in suits tried to make an appearance in our flat you could say that I've gotten a bit paranoid." A list of assassins that had already broken in popped into John's head, needless to say.

Molly let her question slide this time as Mrs. Hudson nodded knowingly. Instead, she found another.

"Did he just leave Irene upstairs all alone?"

"Most likely. I'm sure she'll leave through a window or something." John said with a smirk.

The universe seemed to want to prove the esteemed doctor wrong.

"I'm off then too, it seems a call has been made for my presence elsewhere." Irene said as she slipped into the room, thankfully wearing public-worthy clothing.

The smirk dropped from John's face.

"Bye, Darlings." Giving a sultry smirk, she spun and disappeared through the front hallway.

Hearing the door close, Mrs. Hudson chose her words carefully.

"Just when you think you've figured her out... she goes and does something completely opposite. Be the death of us all, that girl."

"Just hope Sherlock knows it." John said slowly, taking a long sip of tea.

Molly could only hope so. Though a guilty pleasure told her that she eagerly wanted to be a shoulder to cry on if that woman did hurt him.

**A/N: Done. DONE. _Done_.** Done**. **_Done._

**I am toying with other plots for something where Molly witness something she probably shouldn't...(i.e. HARPOON IN MORTUARY) or perhaps she discussed Sherlock's parents with Mycroft, that might be interesting, Mycroft may be a bit biased... hum...**

**Review to your heart's content, because frankly, that's what those amazingly, beautiful buttons down there are for.**


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